“You know perfectly well that it is,” she said hotly. How dare he steal the beauty of this encounter with his brash words. “But we can never be together.”
“Aye,” he admitted quietly. “I know.”
His agreement deflated her anger. “Then why would you echo my sentiments? Where could it possibly lead?”
“Must it lead somewhere?” He sat up and patted the mattress at his side. “I see no shame in admitting that I care for you. Indeed, the shame would be in letting our dalliance end without telling you the lay of my heart.”
Caitrina did not join him on the bed. It was far too tempting. If she went to him, she might never leave. “But embracing the totality of our affections will only cause greater pain when the moment arrives that parts us.”
He shrugged. “The pain of parting is unavoidable. It will be the memories we make that will sustain us in the future. Why not make them the fullest possible?”
The moments beyond their parting suddenly loomed with a heretofore unimaginable reality. “What awaits you in Edinburgh? You’ve previously suggested pressing commitments. Do they involve a woman?”
He vaulted from the bed and padded across the cold floor to her side. Gathering the edges of her brat, he wrapped her snugly in the wool. “No woman waits on my return. Not as you imagine, in any case. A street thug threatens many of my companions, and it was my intent to use the crown to buy the loyalty of the castle guards and have him driven off or imprisoned.”
Caitrina’s heart sank.
This was the moment to confess what she’d done—to explain that she had sent for the MacCurrans. But the words wouldn’t form. If she spoke, her confession would dim that warm look in his eyes, perhaps permanently. “A noble goal,” she said, her tongue dry as old leather.
“I do what I must,” he said. “We’re born to a certain place in life, but our choices are thereafter our own.”
They were indeed. And the choice Caitrina had made might well change his memories of her for eternity. “We all do what we must,” she said. “And I must return to my room.”
He bent and kissed her lips—a tender kiss that sent a ripple of warmth to her toes. “Sweet dreams, lass.”
She breathed deep of his spicy, masculine scent, then smiled tremulously, spun on her heels, and dashed from the room. He would never forgive her.
***
Bran posted sentries to the north and west of the manor, armed with warning fires. If Giric decided to attack, they would need at least an hour of preparation to shut the gate and bolster their defenses.
He’d given an accounting of what he’d discovered to Dougal and the royal steward the night before, but the outcome had not been satisfying. Stewart was convinced that Giric was nothing more than an opportunistic bandit—he’d dismissed the possibility that King Edward supported Giric’s efforts with an adamant shake of his head—and there had been no way to rattle his certainty without revealing Caitrina’s role in the plot.
Bran stared at the western forest, scanning the trees for any movement.
Stewart had promised to send to Edinburgh for additional men, but there’d been no urgency in his words. It would be four days at best before he saw support from the castle—and possibly longer. The royal steward believed the walls of Clackmannan were highly defensible. Bran disagreed. While it was true that the older man had more experience defending a keep than Bran did, he’d not seen the group of men gathering to the north, or the longbows they wielded. Bran had described the weapons and explained how they worked, but neither Stewart nor Dougal had put much stock in their value. They were convinced that the effort required to draw a bow of such length would exceed the abilities of most men. They were wrong. They’d never seen a Welsh bow in action, but he had. One of the men in his father’s band of brigands had been a Welshman.
Bran had underestimated Giric once before; he wasn’t about to do it again.
There had to be a way to claim a victory, even against a company of longbows.
The sharp rap of boot heels on the stone parapets behind him turned his head. Dougal joined him at the wall.
“Did you not say the English were hiding to the north?”
Bran nodded. “But the trees to the west allow a closer approach. It’s wise to keep a watch in all directions.”
“The fall harvest is only recently completed, and an inventory of the stores suggests we can survive a lengthy siege.”
Bran glanced at him. “As long as the wall remains unbreached.”
“We have the advantage,” Dougal insisted.
“We also have a village to protect.”
The older man sighed. “The queen must be our priority, if there is an attack.”
“You doubt Giric’s intent?” Bran asked. “Even after witnessing the atrocities enacted against your guards, without provocation?”
